


Aphrodisia

by Tipsy_Kitty



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's desserts drive people wild. Jared wants a taste.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aphrodisia

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[**smpc**](http://smpc.livejournal.com/), based on [this](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/72286.html?thread=24852062#t24852062) prompt at [](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/profile)[**spnkink_meme**](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/). Thank you [](http://firesign10.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://firesign10.livejournal.com/)**firesign10** for the beta! I made a bunch of changes after she saw it, so assume all mistakes are my own damn fault.

  
“Thank you for arranging this on such short notice,” Jared says coolly as he enters the darkened pastry shop.  
  
 _Aphrodisia_ is closed for the evening, and Jensen leads Jared up the back staircase to his apartment above the bakery. In the center of the living room sits a stout oak coffee table—it had actually been an old library table that Jensen had cut down to size—overflowing with dozens of small tarts and cakes and custards set out on black plastic catering plates. Jared’s mouth starts to water.  
  
“Make yourself comfortable,” Jensen says.  
  
Soft chairs and couches line the walls on three sides; wall sconces let off a soft warm glow that makes the leather couch appear to be made of caramel, and the chaise lounge in the corner looks plush and inviting. Jared feels his tension drain away just from the pleasant surroundings, and has to remind himself that he’s not here to relax. He does pull off his jacket and tie though, before collapsing onto one of the sofas. Jensen sits at the other end and surveys his buffet.  
  
 “And you’re sure this stuff is safe?” Jared asks, looking suspiciously at the array of colorful desserts Jensen has arranged for the tasting.  
  
Jensen bristles. “Of course it’s safe. All of my ingredients are 100% organic.”  
  
Jared rolls his eyes. “ _Of course it’s safe_ ,” he mimics in his head. God, what a smug bastard. Jared would love to be able to get up and walk out the door before this partnership negotiation even gets underway, but he can’t. He needs Jensen, and Jensen knows it.  
  
“I mean, you’re not, like, putting roofies in your cupcakes, right?”  
  
“You know damned well I’m not! Besides, I thought you didn’t believe in ‘this nonsense,’” Jensen says, throwing back the words Jared had used when he called to set up the tasting.  
  
“I don’t. Obviously. But I also don’t want to be accused of drugging my patrons.”  
  
“My food’s not drugged, Jared!” Jensen folds his arms angrily, and Jared can’t help but notice how the corded muscles of his arms are shown to advantage by his tight black T-shirt. Jared had forgotten how fucking _hot_ Jensen looks when he’s pissed.  
  
He’d forgotten how much fun it was pissing Jensen off.  
  
Jared and Jensen used to be practically inseparable; they’d met while in culinary school and hung out together constantly, often fantasizing about opening their own restaurant, where Jared would put together a celebrated menu and Jensen would create exquisite pastries.  
  
Their friendship had fallen apart when, after suffering through eleven months of unacknowledged sexual tension, they found themselves fucking like bunnies one sultry July evening.  
  
After that night, depending on who you asked, the story was either “Jensen ran and hid like a scared little girl,” or “Jared became even more of an insufferable douche than before,” and they quit speaking.  
  
If you asked Genevieve or Danneel, they were both idiots suffering under delusions and misunderstandings so epically stupid that they made _Three’s Company_ look like a sensitive portrayal of the sexual revolution by comparison, but Jared and Jensen weren’t asking them.  
  
So, Jared went on to open a restaurant that _did_ have a celebrated menu, and Jensen opened a bakery that _did_ carry exquisite pastries. They just didn’t open their restaurants together.  
  
Jared really doesn’t even want to be here seeking Jensen’s help, but _Sadie’s_ has hit a slump. It’s been open long enough that the crowds of curiosity seekers have died down, and though the foodies still come and he knows his dishes are delicious, he also knows that sometimes a successful restaurant needs a little extra... something to tempt diners to return.  
  
Several of his friends, coworkers, and customers have mentioned Jensen's bakery, all of them with a gleam in their eyes that Jared's only seen when he's about to get thoroughly fucked. When he prodded them for details, though, they just got a far-off look on their faces and their words trailed off.  
  
"You just have to try Jensen's desserts for yourself," said Misha, his head server. His eyes darkened at some undisclosed memory, and he licked his lips.  
  
"What about you, Kim?" he asked his sous chef. "Have you been to _Aphrodisia_? Should we try to carry some of their stuff here?"  
  
Kim bit her lower lip and looked off into the middle distance, absently stroking her neck.  
  
"Yo, Kim? You with me?"  
  
She cleared her throat. "S’cuse me, Jare, I have to call my husband."  
  
Finally, after plying his best friend (and best customer) Genevieve with lemon-basil martinis on the house, she told him, “Look, I don’t know what he does to those cakes or whatever, like, no freaking clue. But I do know we've never had sex as hot as when we stopped by for cupcakes on our way home last week."  
  
Jared paused at that revelation, and then blinked several times to clear his head. He's bi enough to wonder what the hottest night of sex for Genevieve and Danneel might look like, but not curious enough to be thrown off track. His baby is, if not exactly dying, certainly not setting the world on fire.  
  
It’s not like Jared actually believes Jensen’s desserts are spontaneously causing an epidemic of hot sex all over town; the whole idea is ridiculous. Aphrodisiacs aren’t real. Sure, chocolate’s full of serotonin, and oysters are packed with zinc, but they don’t _actually_ cause mind-blowing orgasms.  
  
Still, if Jared’s customers are talking about Jensen’s freaking desserts, then Jared will try to provide them with Jensen’s freaking desserts. He loves his restaurant more than he hates that prig Jensen, so the following Monday he swallows his pride and calls _Aphrodisia_ to arrange for a private tasting and possible business negotiation.  
  
  
***  
  
  
“Where would you like to start?” Jensen asks.  
  
“I’m in your hands.”  
  
Jensen smirks. “In that case, let’s start off with a Chocolate Berry Kiss.” He hands Jared a tiny chocolate tart with a blackberry glaze. Jared pops the whole thing into his mouth and groans at the decadent confection.  
  
“Wow,” Jared says. “That tastes amazing.”  
  
“Of course it does,” Jensen says impatiently. “I made it. But don’t tell me how it tastes. Tell me how it _feels_.”  
  
“It feels like…” Jared opens his eyes suddenly to see a smug half-smile playing on Jensen’s face.  
  
It feels like his lips have been kissed until they were swollen; he could almost feel the brush of another’s mouth against his.  
  
“Yes, well, that would be—I think my customers would like that,” Jared says, clearing his throat.  
  
Jensen takes back the plate and hands Jared a plastic glass filled with creamy custard.  
  
“I call this one Citrus Whisper. It’s lemon custard with a light swirl of rosemary oil in the center.”  
  
Jared dips his spoon into the tiny cup and closes his eyes as he savors the exquisite flavors. He feels the distinct sensation of a soft whisper against his ear, and his eyes fly open.  
  
“Did you do that?” Jared asks, suspicious.  
  
Jensen holds up his hands. “Nope. It was all the custard.”  
  
“It’s… quite nice,” Jared says, feeling a little bit flushed. He realizes he’s turned completely to face Jensen, and seems to be inching towards the center of the couch.  
  
“Okay, now this is a Salted Caramel Caress,” Jensen says, handing him a cupcake. Jared feels a little apprehensive as he bites into it. The flavors burst on his tongue, followed by the sensation of a lover’s hands grazing along his hips.  
  
“I’m starting to suspect you might be a witch.”  
  
Jensen fiddles with the desserts on the table. “I did have a grandfather who claimed to be a mage, but we all just thought he was off his rocker.”  
  
“So it’s _magic_ roofies!”  
  
Jensen rolls his eyes. “Nobody’s getting roofied, Jared. All my desserts do is... _maybe_... amplify pleasant feelings and urges that people already have. Nobody’s getting lucky after eating here that didn’t already want to get lucky.”  
  
“So the fact that I kinda want to kiss you right now….”  
  
“Is because you’re still hot for me,” Jensen smirks, but he’s sliding towards the middle of the couch as well, and Jared doesn’t think he can live another second without kissing those lips, so he does.  
  
It’s sweet and tentative at first, an apology for the way things ended maybe, and he pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against Jensen’s.  
  
“This okay?” Jared asks, expecting Jensen to push him away or throw him out or, God, laugh in his face, but instead Jensen’s hands come around to gently cup Jared’s cheeks. Their lips brush together, soft nibbles at first that taste like icing sugar, tongues licking and tickling, and Jared can’t believe he gave this up over some stupid misunderstanding; he should _always_ be kissing Jensen.  
  
Jensen starts unbuttoning Jared’s dress shirt and Jared yanks Jensen’s T-shirt over his head, and then Jensen pushes him back against the couch and straddles him, the cool of the leather at his back contrasting with the heat of Jensen’s body pressed to his, a glorious expanse of skin on skin but not enough, not nearly enough.  
  
“God, Jensen, so fucking sexy,” Jared says as he cups Jensen’s ass through his jeans. Jensen grinds down against him, and then Jared surges up and sweeps dozens of tiny desserts to the floor so he can spread Jensen out on the coffee table and strip him down properly.  
  
“Yeah, Jared, c’mon,” Jensen moans, tilting his hips up so Jared can pull his jeans down more easily. When he sees that Jensen isn’t wearing any underwear, his already hard cock swells even further and he can’t get them both naked fast enough. They kiss again, hard and insistent this time, tongues twisting in a play for dominance; then Jared breaks it off and slides down Jensen’s body until he’s kneeling on the floor between Jensen’s thighs, licking at the velvety soft head of his dick.  
  
Jensen shudders beneath him, thrusts his hips up, and Jared swallows him deep.  
  
“Yeah, c’mon, take it Jared, suck me,” Jensen says, and because their relationship is nothing if not contrary, Jared pulls off with a slick pop and grins at him.  
  
“Fucker,” Jensen swears, but then Jared pulls Jensen towards him until his ass is at the edge of the table, bends his head to lick at Jensen’s pretty puckered hole, and Jensen is swearing for a whole different reason.  
  
“Oh, fuck, oh God,” Jensen gasps. Jared grips Jensen’s ankles, holding them firmly as he bends Jensen’s legs back to his chest, tongue probing greedily at Jensen’s opening, his five o’clock shadow scuffing the tender flesh between Jensen’s legs. He looks across the expanse of Jensen’s long, firm torso to see Jensen propped up on one elbow, eyes dark with lust as he watches Jared tongue-fuck his ass.  
  
“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” Jensen says, and this time Jared complies, tongue probing deeper while his hands massage the globes of Jensen’s ass. He slides a finger in next to his tongue and Jensen’s breath hitches.  
  
“Yeah, more,” Jensen says and Jared adds another finger, alternating fingers and tongue until Jensen huffs impatiently and says, “C’mon, Jared, get on with it.”  
  
“Not stretched enough,” Jared protests, and Jensen snorts, hands fumbling through the mess of pastries and treats on the floor until he finds a cup of something, yolk yellow and creamy thick, and thrusts it at Jared.  
  
“This, use this,” Jensen pants.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Passion-fruit butter.”  
  
“Is that safe?”  
  
“Oh my god, you fucking prude, just fuck me already!”  
  
“Oh, it’s on, Ackles,” Jared promises, swiping his large hand through the brightly colored butter and then stuffing three fingers in at once, slicking Jensen’s hole and twisting his fingers to pry his ass open even further. He can’t resist one more lick, tongue swirling around in the salty fruit butter and Jensen’s own earthy taste, creating a heady combination of flavors that goes straight to Jared’s dick.  
  
“Yeah, c’mon,” Jensen urges, and Jared’s done waiting, needs to see Jensen writhing around on his cock.  He’s surprised by how easily he slip-slides into Jensen, how quickly his cock is enveloped by Jensen’s heat, and he blows out a breathy laugh.  
  
“Butter’s awesome.”  
  
Jensen groans in agreement as Jared begins rocking into him slow and deep. Jensen’s hands are coated with sugary icings and creams from his scrabbling search for the passion-fruit butter, and he brings his hands to his chest and rubs the mess on to his nipples, down his stomach, across his inner thighs.  
  
“Holy fuck that's hot, so messy for me," Jared says with a groan. He stays buried in Jensen, hips shifting minutely as he bends over to lick at the chocolatey berries  on Jensen's ribs, a smudge of lavender mascarpone on Jensen's right nipple.  
  
The flavors and the scents are overwhelming, stimulating erogenous zones Jared didn't even know he had, and as he catches Jensen's lips in a sticky-sweet kiss Jensen starts bucking wildly, trying to get Jared to move deeper and faster.

"So fucking sexy, Jensen," Jared whispers.  
  
“Too fucking slow, Jared,” Jensen growls, and he squeezes his thighs tight around Jared's ass, wraps an arm around Jared's back, and flips them onto the floor so Jared’s flat on his back amidst the sugary carnage.  
  
"Oof, fucker," Jared says, feeling a twinge in his shoulder.  
  
"Shut up, Jared," Jensen says, and Jared does, watches rapt as Jensen takes over, driving himself down onto Jared's cock at a furious pace and reaching behind himself to cup Jared’s balls. Jared’s eyes roll back in pleasure and he reaches for Jensen’s cock, thick and full, and begins stroking it with his buttery hands until Jensen is babbling nonsense and splashing hot come all over Jared’s belly.  
  
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jared chants, and, remembering at the last second that he never put on a condom, he lifts Jensen off his slippery cock. Jensen crashes down on him and Jared latches onto a streak of chocolate peanut butter torte on Jensen’s neck as he comes all over Jensen’s sticky, messy back.  
  
They lay tangled together for many long, delicious moments, until Jared becomes aware of a tasting fork digging into his thigh and the unpleasant sensation of Jensen’s desserts drying to a thick paste all over his body.  
  
“Why did we stop doing that?” Jensen mumbles.  
  
“Cause you’re an idiot. An' so am I.”  
  
“Right.” Jensen props himself up and looks down at Jared, eyes soft and tender. “I think maybe that was a mistake.”  
  
“I think passion-fruit butter is my new favorite thing in life.”  
  
“I thought I was your favorite new thing.”  
  
“You’re my favorite old thing.”  
  
“Thin ice, Jay. That didn’t take long.”  
  
“I’ll blow you in the shower to make it up to you.”  
  
And he does. But that’s a story for another day.  
  
  
  
The End


End file.
